Ronnie Bell and her crew of bandits were the most feared in the entire Moravia area. Ronnie always wished that she could say, "Most feared in the entire Empire", but who was she kidding? She just wasn't that well known. Oh well---at 28, Ronnie was still young...she had plenty of time to spread her name throughout the Empire. She had only been doing this whole bandit deal for a few years, anyway.
She had been born down south, in Lorimar---Warriors' Village, to be exact. She was a big girl, but her parents, Natascha and Deymon, had been as proud of her as any parents should be (though her mother was admittedly exhausted after the birth). She had been kind of peeved at the village's rule about no women in combat, because she enjoyed fighting, but she had been resigned to living out her life as some bold warrior's wife. That bold warrior had happened to be a boy she knew by the name of Tristan. They had fallen in love, and were pretty much set up to be married.
Sadly, when Ronnie turned eighteen and they were ready to marry, her father Deymon was summoned to the capitol, Gregminster---for what, Ronnie never knew---and he set out, taking Tristan with him. They never returned. Soon after, Ronnie's mother died of grief. Ronnie never found out what happened to her father or to Tristan---in fact, their bodies were never even found. The only remnants discovered was both men's swords north of Lorimar Fortress. Soon after, with nothing left for her in the Warriors' Village, Ronnie left, wandering aimlessly north. Eventually, she met several of her current crew members, and her life has never been the same. She shaped up the old bandit crew after their former leader, Ratasa-sasa O'McGrobyvchechovobv, died from choking while trying to pronounce his own name.
Now her bandits were the most feared in all of Moravia---but that would soon change if they didn't get in gear and pull another big heist. The great thing about big heists was, all of the rich people were too stupid to see them coming---you could rob them twice on Wednesday, and come back Friday, and they'd still be shocked.
"So what are we gonna do, boss?" said the bandit beside her, who happened to be her second-in-command, Scotch. Scotch was a man of average height, which of course meant that Ronnie was taller than him. He wore the standard bandits' garb---loose clothing, a blue vest, and a scarf tied around his spikey blond hair. Ronnie knew better than to be fooled by Scotch's baby-face; he could be a cold-blooded killer if he needed to be. Ronnie looked down at her second-in-command, not quite sure what to tell him. Business had been slow as of late, and she didn't exactly have anything planned.
"I'm not sure, Scotch." she admitted. "If we can think up a real money-maker, that would be nice."
"Should I round up the men?" Scotch asked. She nodded, and he proceeded to bang on a huge gong that they had stolen from some Harmonian travellers a few years back. One by one, her crew assembled in the large room, which happened to be the main 'chamber'. All of the 'rooms' were really hollowed-out caverns in the mountainside, but it made no difference. It was "home", and this was her family. And what a scruffy bunch they were.
"Roll call!" Scotch shouted, standing ready with his handy list that he almost always carried. "Eyesoar!" A scuffed-up Winger, wearing the usual ratty clothes and a nifty eyepatch, raised his hand.
"Here!"
"Bechno!" called Scotch. An equally scruffy Dwarf raised his hand.
"Here!"
"Norman!" Scotch yelled. A few of the bandits chuckled. Norman, or, "The Moonside Prince" as he called himself, was a rather skinny fellow who liked to sit in the corner and write poetry, and didn't really seem like standard bandit material---but Ronnie knew how looks could be deceiving. She had seen Norman do some wicked things.
"Here." he said, absently waving his hand as he concentrated on the piece of paper in front of him, which Ronnie bet had a 105% chance of being poetry. He sat propped up in a little alcove that he had taken the time to carve out of the wall. Many of the bandits liked to joke about how they haven't seen him do any physical labor since.
"Jaoullin!" Scotch called. Jaoullin called himself "The Sunshine Knight", and usually wore shiny armor to prove it. He never had the guts to be a knight, although he was by far the most outgoing of the bandits. He enjoyed making perverted jokes about anything and everything. His pride and joy, besides his armor and something that I can't mention here but that he surely would in a perverted joke, was his weapon, the Star Ostrich Sword. It was a nice sword, but he put way too much faith in that thing---the way Jaoullin saw it, if the SOS wanted to move Moravia Castle with its pure strength, that was by-god what it was going to do. He swaggered into the room, unsheathed SOS, and waved it in the air smugly.
"Here!!" he bellowed. Scotch nodded. The list went on for a while, and when everyone was finally accounted for, Ronnie got them all to shut up and pay attention.
"Listen up, men..." she yelled. "As you all probably know, we haven't had any large heists or business in a while." There was a chorus of voices agreeing with the statement.
"Do you have a plan, boss?" Eyesoar asked, hovering over the others.
"No, I don't yet. That's why I called all of you. We all need to put our heads together and think of a big job we can pull. I mean, the occasional snatched purse is nice, but we need a big job that we can live off of for a while." There was another chorus of voices. "Any ideas?"
"How about we pull a fast one on Kasim Hazil?" asked one of the bandits. Scotch shook his head, as did Ronnie.
"You know as well as anyone else here that I'd love to get something out of Kasim, but---" Ronnie began.
"We don't have the resources to do that, and it's way too risky. He's an Imperial General with an army at his disposal. He'd snuff us out." finished Scotch.
"How about notable travellers? Do we know of any that are going to be passing through anytime soon?" asked Bechno, twirling his mustache for effect.
"Not really, or our problems would be solved." Scotch pointed out.
"Damn...we haven't robbed anyone notable in a long time..." Eyesoar pouted.
"How about ransom?" piped up Norman from his corner. Everyone made some sort of surprised exclamation---most had forgotten that the quiet fellow was even there.
"Hmmm...we've never done ransom..." Scotch said nervously.
"But I like the idea...it's very appealing." Ronnie spoke up. She looked at Norman quizzically. "Who did you have in mind?" Norman shrugged.
"How about the Darstons? They've got quite the cash hoard." suggested a bandit.
"Maybe the Ettes. They've got a beautiful daughter that could readily be kidnapped." Jaoullin said slyly.
"I was thinking maybe...Pauline Fargolon." Norman said, a satisfied smirk appearing on his face as most of the bandits gasped in shock---the Fargolons were as rich as, if not richer than, Kasim Hazil himself. It would truly be a king's ransom if they kidnapped her. It was said that Pauline's great grandfather was credited with the discovery of the Turtle Rune---which, since runes get discovered every day, isn't very remarkable, but her grandfather and father were wealthy merchants around the whole Empire, and had become very, very rich because of it. Kidnapping Pauline and demanding a ransom from her father would be the perfect plot, now that Ronnie thought about it.
"That's acutally a very good plan, Norman. Wonderful." Ronnie complimented. Norman grinned, looking up from his poetry for a moment.
"I thought it would be." he said, his smile fading slightly. "But who pulls the actual job?" There was a murmur as the bandits talked amongst themselves for a moment.
"I will, of course. I think Scotch, you, Jaoullin, and Bechno would do nicely." Ronnie decided. Eyesoar waved his hand.
"You'll need me to scale the walls of their gigantic mansion!" he pleaded. Ronnie smiled.
"And Eyesoar, too." Eyesoar was the youngest of all the bandits, but he truthfully was useful for scaling walls.
"When will this kidnapping take place?" asked one of the other bandits.
"In a few days, after we make some preparations." Ronnie announced. "Those participatiing in this job will need to get plenty of rest before then. The rest of you can fix this place up for our 'guest'." There were many groans from the gathered bandits, but they all knew better than to argue with Ronnie. She'd smash them, for one. Norman went back to writing his poetry in his alcove, with a smug smirk on his face. Jaoullin looked particularly satisfied with not being forced to help in the cleanup. He sheathed SOS and sat in an old armchair, his arms behind his head. Eyesoar flew out the door, probably going out to chase the mountain goats again. He never got tired of it. Some of the bandits mocked him for his childish pasttimes, but Ronnie knew full well that if they could fly and keep up with those goats, they would be out there chasing them too. She sighed. Men. Bechno and the others left the room, leaving Ronnie alone with the Sunshine Knight and the Moonside Prince.
"Well, be sure that you two don't expend too much energy between now and then." she said, winking. They gave her their trademark grins and assured her that they wouldn't. She then left the main chamber and retired to her quarters for the night.
She locked her door behind her. Since her chamber was one of the few with a locking door or even a door, she figured she might as well put it to use. Most of the bandits were pretty free about leaving doors open and such anyway, so she got the room with a door. Besides, she was the boss. They better damn well give her a working door. She pulled her headband out of her hair and threw in onto the table. She then went to the two swords on the wall, and took them down to look at, though she had the exact mental image of each one in her mind. She had for ten years. She took the first one, an older, longer sword with her family crest on the handle, and the name Natascha engraved on the hilt. This was the sword that she had seen in her home and at her father's side for eighteen years when she was growing up. She polished it just the way she had always watched her father do it, then returned it to its place on the wall. She took the second sword, and ran her hand along the smooth blade, gazing with sorrow at the hilt, where the word Ronnie was engraved. She blinked back tears for a moment, then cursed herself for getting so sentimental. She polished the sword and hung it up, trying to keep her mind off of it---which of course didn't work. She went to bed, trying her utmost to concentrate on the big job they were going to have to do in the next few days.
